The March Lion

March could not simply bring spring gently on the breeze. It had to test our metal with one more snowfall.

Even the little winter cabbages that line the streets in Manhattan have given up any hope of an early spring.

Big, plump flakes fell all morning and afternoon. The street sounds were muffled and little kids accompanied their parents on sleds along the sidewalks. On the hood of my jacket I could hear tap, tap as the flakes settled on my head. Pretty soon we were all crusted in snow like chicken filets covered in bread crumbs.

We spent the afternoon ducking in and out of cozy nooks.

McNulty's tea shop opened its doors to us in a cloud of tannin and mint.

And Murry's cheese shop let us taste and compare wheel after wheel before we finally chose a goat cheese cheddar from Spain. They treat each cheese like a fine wine. It's amazing the variety that can be created by the careful curation of one simple ingredient.

A week later, the sun came out but the temperature stayed low. The blanket of clouds was ripped off, and all our heat floated away. But at least we had some light.

Everyone in the Village was making music in the streets. Pianos in the parks, cellos on the sidewalk, and old men and babies singing along with all their might.